Servants of the Dagger - Betony War -
by Swordrist
Summary: A Betony War story following Perane Staldirs, a young Daggerfall noble.
1. Prologue

His opponent's blade flew towards him, cleaving the air in two. Perane raised his weapon to block its path, the two swords clashing into each other, recoiling the attacker. Perane fell back a few steps, holding his blade close to his chest, fingers wrapped tightly around the grip.

His rival's sword came in for another attack, Perane swept the blade aside, sending it flying to the floor. He pressed his tip to the opponent's flesh.

Perane backed away with an amused look on his face. His rival picked up the ruined wooden sword and followed him in setting it upon the rack.

"Should've gone for the head." Perane spoke, boastfully. They marched through the marvelous palace of House Staldirs. The floors made of marble and the walls of centuries-old stone, but the engravings still as fresh as the day it was built.

"It's not because..." his squire, Edward, responded, rising quickly to defend his honor, even though they were both smiling in agreement. He was quickly interrupted. A courier, a young Nord clad in green robes came rushing up the corridor. The sound of his footsteps echoing through the great, long hallway, have been announcing his arrival even before he was made visible.

The courier bent down to his knees, panting. After Perane's nod, he rose. Perane could finally see his face, it was full of sweat and grease, as the sunlight reflected off of it, his formerly-pale skin was now tan, just like the rest of the servants in the palace.

After an awkward moment the courier spoke:

"My lord, your father has requested your presence in the Great Hall." The courier spoke promptly without stopping, until he finished talking.

"I'm going then. Get some rest in the servants' quarters, boy." Perane spoke, pitying the young man, yet still disgusted, steering clear of him before continuing on towards the Great Hall.

The wide, large wooden doors, occupying half of the entryway, opened to allow Perane and Edward's arrival. Seated in the center was his father -Baron Mordoryan II- upon a wooden throne he rested, intricately adorned with gold, to his side an empty one sat, supposedly belonging to the now-dead wife of Baron Mordoryan.

The proud banners of Daggerfall and the Empire, surrounded by those of House Staldirs flew behind the Baron's throne. Guards adorned with ebony plate and steel halberds stood ever watchful. The Baron's Guard they called it, although, in truth, they were nothing more than fancy mercenaries.

With the appearance of his son, the Baron raised, silently walking to the back of the hall. Perane and his companion followed through a back door which led to yet another hallway. Its walls lined with sophisticated golden ornaments, with doors and torches hanged from metal posts. Through one of these doors they passed, a long winding stairway greeted, upon which they continued.

After several more turns and detours they reached the War Room. Its walls were lined with banners, and in its center a circular table made of stone adjoined to the floor. Five noblemen and generals stood around the table. In the corner of the room lay a man named Ardjack, he snickered at the sight before him. The men were discussing the battlemaps and the plans that lay upon it, but how they could read them, Ardjack didn't know, for the only torch in the room cast a dim light.

"My Lord" They all chanted at once as the Baron entered.

"We have just received further orders from Daggerfall, sir." One general spoke. He was a gruff old, wrinkled Breton with a short, grey mane, he would always insist upon wearing his arms and armor to meetings such as this one.

"They've declared war."

The room fell silent as each one of the members have been reflecting upon the grave news for some time now.

Perane knew of the small dispute between Daggerfall and Sentinel over the small island of Betony, but he had underestimated them, he didn't think that such a small thing would lead to a war between the two most powerful factions of High Rock and Hammerfell.

The Baron's voice broke the silence.

"Perane, you are to represent House Staldirs in the war. I have already arranged everything you need as well as a hundred to accompany you into battle."


	2. Chapter 1: The City Of Daggerfall

The army marched through the gates towards the docks, mothers watched as their sons left for war.

At the docks a fleet awaited them. Slowly, one by one they all boarded. But by the time they had all settled in, the Sun's beams barely lit the darkened skies.

"We should wait for daytime, and leave first thing in the morning." Ardjack spoke. Watching the last of the supply crates board. Beside him stood the admiral.

"Of course." The admiral replied. He was an old breton, in his late nineties. Although not noble-born, he had proved his might in battle and as a reward he had been granted a small plot of land as well as a title, making him a noble.

The very next morning the wooden ships raised anchors. One by one they exited the port.

They sailed west. For weeks they navigated through the rough storms of the Padomaic Ocean, each moment seemed to be Perane's last. The sailors assured him it wouldn't be, as they crossed the route a dozen times each year, yet he worried and vomited, his face an awful shade of green.

The storms played with the ship as if it were a toy, the wind sent the masts flying, one could believe they were giant birds. The hull sometimes became filled with seawater, it would reach up to Perane's knees and ruin his gear. Fortunately, towards the end of the expedition he learned to keep his equipment on the upper shelves, for this trip was the worst he'd ever experienced.

The seas played with them for days. One ship sank, drowning with it half of the expeditionary force, another time they were set off course, so much so, in fact that they had come close to the shores of Hammerfell, delaying their arrival to Daggerfall by a week. But fortunately, and finally, they reached their destination intact. -seasick, yes, but still alive-

The gates of Daggerfall opened to allow the passage of a small envoy, Lord Perane, his squire and a small entourage of guards. Peasants gathered around to witness the intricate carriage pulled by steeds adorned with armor more expensive than their homes.

They rode through the giant maze of a city, left, right, right, left, Perane couldn't keep up, he missed the simpler, cleaner rodes of Swordrist, where beggars and slums weren't so common.

Some say Castle Daggerfall and its surroundings were constructed by the Direnni themselves thousands of years ago, others say it was the Aedra who built it along with the Adamantine Tower, Redguards say that it was built by the foul Daedra and meant to be inhabited only by the evilest of heart. But no matter who built it, all agree on one thing, its beauty is unrivaled in all of High Rock.

The castle had walls of its own, different than those that encircled the city. They were made of red stone that pleased and satisfied the human eye, each tower, comparable to the Adamantine Tower itself in beauty and importance, the towers have been the turning point of many a siege throughout the nation's history. They were topped by domes of gold inscribed with ebony. The central building, home of the King and his family, was most magnificent of all, it's walls smooth and shiny, intricate shapes of past victories inscribed with an attention to the smallest of details.

The large gates bent open to allow Perane through, the King's Guard, clad in ebony bowed as they introduced Perane to the War Chambers. The room itself was large, large enough to fit a hundred generals inside. An elevated podium sat on one end of the chamber, while a huge map of the Iliac Bay was spread across an even larger table that took up half the empty space.

About fifty noblemen occupied the room, chatting and remembering old memories as if it were a party and not a war meeting. They stood huddled in groups of two-three people, several youngsters like him -for whom it was their first war- stood all alone, beside the drinks.

Finally, the King spoke:

"As many of you know, we are at war, King Camaron of Sentinel declared war when we accepted Betony's petition to join the Kingdom of Daggerfall."

He paused. The room was silent, no one dared to utter a word.

"And so I have gathered every one of you here to fight for the honor of Daggerfall. We have never lost a war and I don't intend to do so this time.

And so, after considerable examination, Lord Bridwell, Baron Of Welljester Keep and Ristardhold, Vassal to King Lysandus had been chosen as lead-marshal of the campaign."

His voice echoed through the large hall, resonating off of the marble floors and the stone walls. The hall erupted in chatter once more as they began discussing the choice of lead-marshal. Some congratulated him and mentioned how loyal they are, others looked at him with disgust, some even mocked him openly, but those were the old noblemen, who had influence in the court and no fear of the law. And so it remained until, finally, by midnight, the hall was left empty.

It was decided upon in the meeting that they would depart on the 15th of Second Seed. The lords set upon organizing the armies. Perane was assigned with the right flank, him and five other lords.

The morning of the 15th they departed, a thousand men marching at once, led by their lords, clad in iron and armed in steel. Families watched, desperately begging their children to turn back. It was unlike the leaving from Swordrist, here families numbered in the thousands, and were more miserable. Nonetheless the soldiers marched unhindered. Through the hills of Western Daggerfall they tread, until the hills of Daggerfall become the forests of Shalgora.

They were riding for war, and they weren't returning without victory.


	3. Chapter 2: Battle Of The Bluffs

The soldier writhed in pain. Rolling around wouldn't cull it or end it, nothing would. His face was covered by the mud, twigs, blood and dirt, he was unrecognizable. His chest, half the skin and flesh missing, replaced by the remnants of a sword stuck between his ribs.

Around him the scene was no different, men moaning in pain and agony, razed grounds covered with the the blood of dead men. The weapons of the dead littered the floor.

Yet the sounds of clinking steel still rang throughout the forest.

Perane embedded his sword in the soldier's arm, pulling it out while slashing at his chest. The man dropped to the floor with a silent scream on his face, his saber falling not so far away.

The sounds of screaming, misery and agony filled the forest and radiated off the trees. Perane's bascinet made him sweat like mad and only see a few miles before him, but worst of all was the ringing sound, it had started when the war horn blew, and hadn't stopped since.

One -I must say brave- redguard soldier fell upon Perane from behind, swinging his blade at the unsuspecting nobleman, the breastplate took most of the blow, but it still hurt. Confused, Perane swung around, he was greeted by the sight of the redguard warrior, dark skin, close to no armor and a saber, were his defining qualities.

The redguard swung once more, the well-made saber landed on his hip, shattering the chainmail, but the padded gambeson underneath saved his life, but didn't stop the pain.

The world seemed to blur as pain took over his legs, his sword started slipping from his grip. The roar of the redguard as he prepared for the final blow snapped Perane back into his senses. Catching the sword from its fall, he stabbed at the warrior's exposed abdomen, the redguard stopped his attack in time to lower his blade. Both swords dashed against each other. Perane readied another attack, the redguard stood watching, ready to block any other charge.

Perane feinted a stab to the right and just as the redguard moved in to deflect it, he swung his sword from the right. The warrior, unsuspecting, failed to defend, the sword implanted itself deep into his flesh.

Relieved, Perane let the sword fall with the corpse, he'll retrieve it later. He removed his helmet, dropping it to the ground. Analyzing his wound, he found that no serious harm had befallen him, it was nothing more than a cut, but quite a bloody one at that. Having confirmed his state, he observed the battlefield, or at least, the side that wasn't cut off by trees.

They were amidst a clearing in the forests of Shalgora, corpses littered the terrain and flies were feasting upon the dead. He estimated that he lost twenty-one men, and the enemy much more. Little fighting was happening in the clearing, his men had managed to set up a perimeter.

Edward came rushing through the lines, His leather armor splattered with blood, his face set upon a horrified look, he gripped his blood-spattered shortsword tightly, indicating a recent kill. Now that he thought of it, Perane hadn't seen him at all since the battle started.

"Lo.. lord Bri..bridwell's sent out new orders. The en..enemy's established a perimeter on a nearby hill, they're setting up their ar..arch..archers now. We're to ch..cha..charge."

So that was why Edward was horrified. Terrible tactician as he was, he knew that a charge in these conditions is certain death.

"What? Lord Bridwell knows such a thing is impossible!"

Perane replied, he was confused, how, and why would such a fine tactician as Lord Bridwell decide upon an act so absurd?

"It..it's a ruse. He'll be lea..leading an attack on their flanks himself."

"Alright then. Gather the men in formation and inform Lord Bridwell that we'll be able to charge in half an hour."

Edward disappeared back into the lush forests. Perane wore his bascinet while the soldiers started appearing soon after, and in twenty-minutes all sixty-five remaining men under his command stood in formation. Those with kite and tower shields stood first, followed by the pikemen and the weaker soldiers, then the elite soldiers and finally, the crossbowmen and the archers, forming a rough rectangle-like figure.

Ready for the charge, Edward arrived soon after, pulling Perane's mount after him. The amount of blood on his armor had increased and a wound in his left arm reeked of blood and flesh.

"Lord Bridwell's given the all-clear."

Edward informed them. So it was. They were to die here today, or so it seemed.

"Take him, Edward. Ride for Lord Bridwell's forces. Akatosh knows we might all die here. Go!"

Edward, relieved at his last-minute excuse of not joining in, kept on muttering his thanks while he rode north.

'He's a fine lad." Perane thought, as he took his position at the forefront of the group. The warhorn blew, announcing the group's charge. The men clashed and pushed as the slow fell behind and the strong advanced, it was each man for himself.

Not so far in, the first arrow passed, missing. Another arrived, planted firmly in one of the crossbowmen's face, then a volley of twenty arrows flew towards them. The shieldmen did the best as they could to block them but over a half of them hit their mark. The Daggerfall bowmen responded with a volley of their own. And so it continued, one volley ending, the other beginning. By the time they reached the hill, more than fifty soldiers were dead.

Before them was a seemingly impregnable fortress, the hill was steep, and they would have to climb it. At the sight of the hill several men outright gave up and ran away, only to be gunned down by the redguards. Perane, feeling discouraged and guilty himself for leading so many men to their deaths, he wouldn't let them die in vain.

With as much speed as they could Ardjack reorganized the warband, the shieldmen were tasked with protecting the climbers, the men would climb while the crossbowmen distracted the enemy above. Perane, in an act of courage, led the climb.

With the plans established on, they set upon climbing. Whenever Perane ordered them to charge they would remain under their shields, hesitant in fear of death. In an unusual act for a nobleman, Perane climbed first, gripping upon what little rock held. The soldiers, inspired by such a sight began to climb themselves.

As much as he tried, Perane couldn't hold on to his sword, it ended up falling. The troops started reaching the hill, the Sentinel archers ran away in fear of being cut down. Perane chased one down, tackling him to the ground.

The archer attempted to break out but Perane held tightly. Giving up, the archer tried removing Perane's helm, and he would've succeeded were it not for the headbutt which knocked him unconscious.

Perane snatched the archer's bow and loaded it. It was a cheap longbow. Analyzing the battlefield, Perane found a suitable target, a helpless archer running with his back to the Daggerfall soldiers.

Just as he was about to release the string, a great pain overcame him from his hip, the same place where the redguard had cut. He felt his arms drop the bow, the arrow landing straight into dirt. His legs buckled soon after, he fell to the ground, cursing. Searching for the cause of the pain, he found nothing. His vision blurred, a red blot stood over him. His head suddenly hurt as if it had been cracked, then, finally he blacked out entirely.


	4. Chapter 3: Riot!

Perane woke to the sight of a cozy room, on a bed, not so different than those in Swordrist. Where was he? Last he remembered he was aiming a bow at a man, then the pain came. His head ache, under his leg he found a small pool of blood. Looking around he saw an arrow head placed upon the nearby table.

"You're alive!" A familiar voice shouted with joy. It was Edward! His trustful squire.

"Where am I?" Perane coughed, trying to get up. His legs were sore and his head hurt, so he settled for lying down.

"Reich Gradkeep, there's peace negotiations going on."

"So soon? Did we win?"

"No, we didn't. Or at least, we, didn't. It was you that won! The enemy was so frightened of you, they said you feared no death! We caught them retreating to Craghold Keep. We engaged them, of course, but we barely lost a soul before they surrendered!"

The men under his command did not die in vain. This eased Perane's mind but still, was it worth it? All the bloodshed.

"Help me get up."

Nervously, Edward held out his hand, Perane grabbed it and Edward tried to carefully pull him up. Now, in a more comfortable sitting position, Perane asked for more details.

"Where..." He was just about to ask where they were, then he felt lightheaded because he stood up too quickly. He remembered, they were in Reich Gradkeep.

"Maybe you should rest some more." Edward put Perane back into a lying position and left the room, closing the door behind him.

The next morning Edward returned, Perane felt much better and was able to get up and walk around the palace.

Perane managed to walk alone without support, a tremendous feat for an injured man. During their walk, Perane learnt a lot. The healers concluded that he had been hit by a crossbow in his unprotected hip, the bolt broke on impact and the head had entombed itself deep into his flesh.

When Perane asked what that red blot was, Edward looked at him confused, so Perane decided to drop the subject.

The walk came abruptly to an end, however, when Perane's leg started paining him, they returned to Perane's room and Edward laid him to rest.

The morning after that, he felt much better. When Edward came for him, Perane managed to stand, walk and run without any help, it was a surprising recovery indeed. But they didn't waste the morning walking. It was the final day of the peace meetings and Perane decided he better be there.

Edward pushed the massive wooden doors open and held them while Perane passed.

"Lord Staldirs, I wouldn't have expected such a fast recovery but it seems I'm wrong, you know what they say, about youth and all, days far gone for me."

Perane looked to see who was speaking, and to his surprise and horror, he found it was The King.

"Yes, my lord." Perane replied, awkwardly. He didn't know what to say.

The King left Perane and headed off to speak with one of his other vassals. Perane analyzed the room he was in, it was a large octaval room, in it's center a long table ran, enough to seat a hundred lords. Behind it sat the throne of the King of Gradkeep, adorned with blue linen.

The lords, although spread around the room, began sitting one by one. The chatter eventually died off and all the lords sat upon a chair, ready for the meeting.

"Today we come here to sign the Treaty Of Gradkeep. I will allow my scribe to present the agreed upon conditions." Lord Graddock spoke. He was an old, frail man. He didn't have the same look of wisdom that King Lysandus had, but rather that of a weak man, incapable of ruling his kingdom.

"The Kingdoms of Daggerfall and Sentinel are to cease all hostilities. A truce will be established that prohibits either side from attacking the other for the next ten years. Furthermore, King Lysandus I Of Daggerfall, Lord of Daggerfall Ristardhold, Klordkeep and Gar's Landing is to be recognized as Liege of the Island Of Betony."

The scribe presented the terms of the treaty to King Camaron. His eyes were scanning the paper delivered to him.

"Outrage! We did not agree to this!" King Camaron -the King of Sentinel- stood up in fury, his arms ramming the table.

"I.. I don..don't kno..know sir" The squire spoke, terrified.

"But that is what's written, Camaron!" the King of Daggerfall rose, a smirk could barely be seen on his face.

"That is not what we agreed to!" The King of Sentinel shouted once more. He was furious, how dare he call him in such a way?

"Then, do not sign it!" Lord Bridwell stood, sending the chair flying backwards with his immense weight. He was sneering.

"Very well!" King Camaron left the room, defeated. His lord followed him outside, crashing the door behind them.

The nobles of Daggerfall spent the rest of the day discussing and gossiping about the recent events. Before nightfall, a messenger of Lord Bridwell instructed them all to keep their weaponry close to them whilst they sleep.

"Wake up! Wake up!" Edward's voice could be heard.

Shaken, his arms grabbed and pushed wildly. Suddenly, remembering Lord Bridwell's advice, Perane pushed the arm, tugging at his sword and jumping out of bed. To his relief, it was Edward. Looking around, the sky was jet black but orange beams illuminated it.

"It's those Sentinel Nobl-" Edward started explaining, but before he could finish talking the door flew from it's hinges, landing close to Perane. Behind it, a brute of a man stood. He carried in his arm a shortsword.

Before any of them could do anything, he lunged at Edward, sinking his blade into the squire's chest, he started coughing blood.

Instinctively, Perane picked up the broken door and held it close to him. When the redguard came in to slash at him, Perane deflected the hit with his makeshift shield. While the Sentinel noble attempted to remove his weapon, Perane bashed the door into his face. The warrior's nose broke, sending pools of blood dripping to the floor, his eye had received a good measure of the hit, he couldn't open it from the pain.

The redguard, stunned, did nothing to resist Perane's grapple. Perane threw him into the wall, knocking him unconscious and leaving quite a stain behind it.

Perane rushed to Edward's side, who now lay in a small pond of his own blood, ever increasing. Perane hastily set upon trying to remember one of the many spells he had been taught when he was younger. Oh, if only he had focused back then. After a minute, Perane decided he was wasting too much time, hurrying to the now blood-coated bed. He savagely ripped a piece of fabric from the pillow and rushed back to Edward, tying it into a makeshift bandage.

Now that that was taken care of, he grabbed Edward's sword -he lost his in battle-, he donned his padded gambeson, as it was the only thing he could wear fast enough, and a bit more calm and assured Perane rushed out the door.

The sight before him was chaos. Men were beating each other to death, flies were rushing to feast upon the recently killed. From outside the window, buildings unrecognizable, thanks to the numerous fires that brightened up the night sky.

One man noticed Perane. Charging towards him, he swung his mace. The hit landed squarely into his chest, knocking the breath out of him, if he weren't wearing his gambeson it would've meant certain death.

The soldier took too long to follow up on the attack, and as he raised his weapon for another time, Perane's blade plunged itself into his side, with little resistance, the soldier was a commoner who could not afford armor.

The redguard fell to his knees, sword still hanging out from him. Perane pulled the blade from the corpse and continued on, where, or why? He knew not.

"Aaaaagggghhh!" One soldier cried as he charged towards Perane, holding his axe up high.

''Foolish.'' Perane though, as he slashed at the man's chest, who quickly fell to the floor, coughing blood.

"Lord Staldirs!" Perane heard a distinctive voice shout from behind.

"Staldirs!" the voice shouted once more. Perane turned to witness Lord Bridwell, surrounded by three soldiers. Perane charged at once, holding his sword close to his chest, pointed outwards. One of the men noticed Staldirs but he was too late, Perane's blade had sunk itself deep into his chest. The other two looked with surprise, Bridwell took the moment and swung his warhammer at the enemy's face. It landed on his jaw, crashing his skull to bits. The last one, outnumbered and overwhelmed, ran.

"Come on!"

"No, my sq… my friend, he's injured." Perane interrupted, Lord Bridwell surely knew some spell that could help Edward.

"And what can I do about it? I'm no healer, boy. I'm a warrior. Are you coming or not?"

"Very well." Perane looked off at where Edward lay, and after a moment he followed Lord Bridwell.

They charged upon a line of clashing men, they both exterminated their foes with ease before moving on to the next one. The unequipped and losing Daggerfall infantry rallied at the sight of Bridwell, and they too charged upon the Sentinel group. After several minutes of fighting, the palace courtyard had been secured.

Perane left the battlefield, followed by Bridwell's squire and a healer.

The three rushed into Perane's room, where Edward lay, losing consciousness by the minute. The healer rushed toward him and began muttering incantations. Perane and the squire, meanwhile, prepared for battle.

Perane wore his chainmail, bascinet, a breastplate, greaves, pauldrons, gauntlets, shield and a chainmail coif with the help of Bridwell's squire.

"He'll live." The healer finally looked up, allowing Perane to glance at Edward. The healer had replaced the substitute bandage with a proper one, potion bottles littered the floor.

The squire and Perane rushed back to the battlefields, the healer stayed with Edward.

Both sides were clashing in one long line that covered the streets, this riot had descended from the arts and tactics of war, to a savage, mindless killing spree. Civilian and military corpses skewered the streets. Fighting was all over the city.

Perane jumped upon a redguard soldier from behind, stabbing the redguard in the throat. He fell to the ground with a thump. Another raised his battleaxe above his head to deliver a blow, Perane raised his shield in time to try and protect himself from the attack, but it was too powerful, it broke the shield in two. Perane threw the remnants of his shield at the redguard. The Sentinel warrior deflected the shield pieces, using this opportunity, Perane slashed at the warrior's arm, dismembering it. Before he could finish him off however, a greatsword came flying towards him.

Perane quickly stopped his attack mid-air and moved in to parry the greatsword. Both blades crashed into each other, sending Perane's sword flying out of his grip.

Unarmed and with no other choice, Perane decided to risk it. He jumped onto the redguard soldier, sending him to the floor and dropping his sword. Perane restrained the soldier while he removed his visor and stabbed him in the eye with his own greatsword.

The soldier writhed in pain, rolling and cursing. Perane stood up, the man's greatsword still in his hand.

Great columns of smoke filled the air. The Daggerfall forces stared in surprise and horror as the King's palace burnt before their eyes, the screams of his wife and children filled the night sky, horrifying both armies.

The fire quickly spread, devouring anything it came into contact with, this wasn't any natural fire, it was of a dark nature. The houses and mansions that surrounded the palace quickly fell apart. The King, despite the efforts of all around him, rushed into the fire in an attempt to save his children, but he burnt along with his palace. When the walls crumbled, it fell upon the courtyard, the fighting stopped and men ran for their lives.

Perane rushed towards the plummeting ruble. Edward was still inside. Huge planks of wood rained down. In his struggle, Perane didn't witness the open sewer, he fell inside.

Perane dropped to the sewer floor. His face, an inscription of surprise. His legs hurt from the fall, but his armor had taken most of the damage, ruining his greaves and greatsword. After abandoning his greaves and greatsword, Perane continued walking, his visor lifted. The earth shaked ferociously several times, each time stone would fall from the walls of the sewers, and sometimes block his path. Estimating his location based on the route he took, Perane concluded that this was close enough to get to Edward.

Climbing out of the stairs, he found, to his surprise, the healer running towards him, Edward wrapped around his shoulders. The three hastily descended the ladder back into the sewers. Once inside, the healer dropped Edward and fell to the floor panting.

His face was full of small cuts and bruises, a part of his boot had burned off. His robes were cut and ruined, a peasant's rags would've looked better than his robes. His goatee had burned off as well, his hair stood out in all directions and was now black from the dust and ash that settled upon it.

Urging them on, they followed the path Perane took to reach them. They walked in a line, first came Perane, supporting Edward and then the healer who used what spells he knew to fend of the vermin in the sewers. They climbed the ladder when they found Perane's ruined greaves.

Outside the scene was much worse, although the fighting had moved to another part of the city, the place was still ruined. The formerly green gardens of the Palace, praised all across of High Rock were now laid to waste, stone, ash, ruble, blood, vomit, corpses and weapons belonging to the dead. The trees were either knocked down or set aflame, the screams and moans of the injured chilled Perane to his core. Edward vomited at the sight of the battlefield. The lovely garden, coated in a gruesome shade of red, adorned with flesh and cut pieces of bone.

Perane urged them on but the healer insisted that Edward was under great pain and distress, and that they should rest. Reluctantly, Perane allowed them to sit down while he scoured for food and weapons.

Finding weapons for each one of them was easy. For himself, he took a well-made poleaxe he found beside a dead noble, it had an axehead on one side, a hammer on the other and a spike at the top. An arming sword and a kite shield to use when the poleaxe was inadequate and greaves to replace the ones he lost. For the healer, he found him an arming sword, a buckler as well as gambeson and a mail hauberk. He settled upon a shortsword for Edward.

The food was harder to find, nobody had food upon them. But by luck and Akatosh's blessing, he found a box of bread and a bottle of ale in one of the burned homes. The bread was burned black in a few places, but that could be easily removed. Having finished his search, Perane turned tail and walked back towards where he had left the healer and Edward.

Perane dropped the items he found, startling the healer and causing him to wake up.

"Take these." Perane pointed towards the arms and armor he found for the healer. He scrambled towards them, keeping the sword and buckler close to him. He grabbed the bread and cut off a piece, feeding it to Edward.

Edward tried eating it but ended up mumbling something and pushing the healer's hand away. At that, the healer's face turned grave. He started shaking Edward. No response.

Perane stared, worried, there was nothing he could do. The healer started casting spells. Bright amber lights shooting towards Edward. Again, nothing.

The healer attempted one last spell. The color of a cerulean sea, violent, it shot all across the battlefield, illuminating the corpses, and Edward's.

The healer looked up towards Perane, his face, livid and helpless.

"He is dead."

He broke the news to Perane, before standing up and allowing him to come close to Edward.

Perane rushed towards him. He tried to stop the tears, but he didn't succeed. Edward, his loyal squire, that had served him since he was no older than six, was dead. He felt a rage burn through him. Damn those Sentinels to Oblivion! Damn that healer and damn everything!

He looked up towards the mage, his face an expression of rage and sadness, despite his attempted containment of both.

"How?"

"I.. I don't Kno..know. May..maybe the...the se...sewers." The healer tried making up excuses, he knew it was his fault, but he was afraid of what Perane would do to him.

"Go find me a shovel! Now!" Perane shouted at the healer. He knew that it wasn't the sewers, the healer's spells didn't worked and he wanted that little monster out of his sight.

The healer ran off, thanking all Nine Divines for the opportunity to escape the raging noble. He wasn't going to return for a while, not until after Perane had calmed down.

You could hear the running steps of the man, crisp, through the sands that drew from under the crumbly cobblestone. Farter and farther away they went, faster than ever, deep into the dark, and then, an overwhelming silence left Perane forlorn.

"You died in battle…" He whimpered, a wistful smile gracing his face.

"Like a true knight."


	5. Chapter 4: Cryngaines Fields

Someone... No, Edward. He was screaming, he was in agonizing pain. Perane searched around desperately, but everywhere he looked, it was black. His harrowing screams stopped, replaced by the clanging of metal blades. They started again, horrifying Perane. They stopped, but now the cries of a toddler could be heard, ferociously crying for help as if it's life depended on it, for it did.

Huge craters of rock started falling, missing him by inches, one hit so close, the ground started vibrating.

"My lord! My lord!" A voice shouted from above.

The fast, harmless vibrations became huge earthquakes that shook the very foundations of Tamriel itself.

Suddenly, the vast black started becoming a light blue, the ebony floor started shaping itself into the ruins of Reich Gradkeep. A middle-aged man was leaning over him.

"My lord! Wake up! I got you the shovel." He recognized the man, it was the healer!

Perane stood up, grunting. Most of the rage and despair had gone over the night, but he still blamed the healer, or tried to. He snatched the shovel from his hands and walked off.

Perane searched for a suitable location to bury Edward, he saw a bare patch of land and decided that burying him in the former grass was the best and easiest thing to do. He set upon digging, each handful of dirt he threw out was a proud memory of Edward.

This was... where they first met, Perane was a young teen back then, and Edward, a small child one of their servants had picked up from the orphanage. This was... the first time he lost to Edward, he was reaching adulthood then and Edward was a teen.

By the time he finished digging, the tears had started falling again, but thankfully, less. They picked up Edward and placed him inside the mal-dug tomb. Perane rushed back to his old room, if it could be called that. It's walls were torn apart, the bed had been lit during the fire, his old trunk and belongings were now trash.

The Redguard that had caused Edward's death still lay there, his face unrecognizable from the fire. His hands and legs were now stubs of burned, scarred flesh.

Upon seeing him, the rage inside Perane showed itself once more. And in a rage of fury Perane slashed madly at the corpse, once he was done and had calmed down, he hanged the corpse from the foundations of the ceiling.

Suddenly remembering what he was here for, he searched through his ruined belongings until he found a piece of fabric adorned with House Staldirs' symbol, the proud eagle. He grabbed it and ran back to the grave.

Placing the banner on Edward's chest, the way they would do when a noble died. Staring one last time, he began replacing the dirt.

By the time he finished, it was past sunrise. And he was hungry, sure... slashing at a corpse and digging graves might be tiring, but at least they had you distracted.

Perane grabbed the bread and tore a piece from it, sinking it in with a mouthful of ale. Now satisfied, he handed the mage the food, who gladly accepted it and sat down beside him.

"What's your name? If you don't mind my asking." Perane sternly asked the healer. He relaxed against a fallen log, resting his hands upon his stomach.

"Jagwo..gorto..ja." The mage tried talking, but his mouthful of food hindered him. Swallowing the last remnants of food in his mouth, he spoke.

"Jagjort Jorolyn." He then took another piece of bread, and then a mouthful.

"Well, Jagjort, tell me, why are you so bad at your job?"

The healer, startled, looked with terror in his eyes, the food stuck to the top of his throat. Perane chuckled.

"We better get moving, then. The battle won't stay all day and night."

Relieved, Jagjort stood up and so did Perane. The mage wrapped the remaining bread in a piece of paper and took the ale with them. They followed the path of corpses and blood, oftentimes stopping because of Jagjort's vomiting, it was his first battle.

They reached the outskirts of Reich Gradkeep, there, the Daggerfall army mobilizing. The tents were being propped up, the horses cleaned and saddled. Perane and Jagjort made their way through the commoners. Jagjort often crashing into some and receiving angry curses.

In the center of the camp, the marvelous tent of King Lysandus sat, he didn't sleep in it off course, he slept in a guesthouse, but it was more of a status symbol. Three guards stood outside, they wore the finest armor money could buy.

They intertwined their spears as Perane approached, blocking his path.

"Halt! Who dares enter the Lord's tent?" One spoke. He was clearly their captain. He had the fanciest armor of them all. His face was hidden by his visor.

"Lord Perane Of House Staldirs Of Daggerfall." Perane recited his name, and title, it was the first he memorized as a noble, and the most important of his life.

"Lord Staldirs? My sister serves in your castle! I heard you were among the casualties. I'll inform the King right away." The captain turned to one of his guards. A plump little fellow, with a long black beard and hair that stretched out of his helmet. The man half-jogged, half-walked inside.

Perane stared at the guard awkwardly, he just realized how weird he must've looked. A noble lord, of high standing, with ruined, dirty, crap-adorned, mix-matched armor and a lowly healer following him, not counting the dried tears, blood and crap from the sewers on his face.

The guard appeared shortly after beckoning Perane's entrance. Perane stepped inside, and suddenly it was as if he'd left Tamriel entirely. The rubble, the ruins of the outside world had no effect on the interior of the tent, but still, they were packing up and boxes littered the floor. The King sat in the center upon a wooden chair, surrounded by his servants. A piece of paper was set upon a small table beside him.

"Ah, Lord Staldirs. You don't how much it pleases me to know that you're alive." The King spoke, in a magnificent, royal manner that rhymed with his expensive outfit and clean face. Perane doubted he had even participated in the riot.

"I hope I didn't disturb you, my Lord." Perane shot a glance at the piece of paper.

"No, no. Quite the opposite in fact. I was just about to send out orders for your men to regroup themselves into a different lord's army. It's quite fortunate that you came by. Your tent is situated East of here, I'm sure you could… spare some time for… hygiene." He said, analyzing Perane from head to toe, his smile slightly fading.

"Yes, my Lord." Perane felt embarrassed, he wouldn't dare think what his father would do to him when he found out he presented himself to the King in such a manner. Perane turned tail and left the tent, making East. Jagjort followed suite, they reached their tent in a minute. Two servants set out to greet them.

"My lord, you're alive!" One shouted with joy, then disgust as he witnessed his master's state.

"Yes, yes. Prepare me a bath and wash my armor, get me a spare set of clothes." The two servants rushed off, one towards Perane's tent and the other towards the carts.

"Or two! Two sets of clothes..." The servant looked back and nodded before continuing on his way.

That night Perane took a hearty bath. His servants had prepared him a large wooden tub, which they filled with hot water. After getting out he put on a set of clothes the servants had brought for him and sat down for a meal. Meanwhile, it was agreed that Jagjort would serve as his de-facto squire for now. So, Jagjort put on some proper clothes and set out to warn Perane's men of their moving next morning.

In the afternoon, Perane left his tent, followed by Jagjort, dressed properly, he made his way towards the King's tent. The guards opened the flap to allow him through, the captain smiling at Perane's new state. He pushed aside the canvas drape and held it while they passed.

Inside, the tent was cool, a welcome change to the burning air outside. A dozen noblemen stood around a long, collapsible table. It was filled with maps of High Rock and Gradkeep.

"...is retreating north, to Yeorth Barrowland. I have already sent out a small task force, led by Lord Herold, who is keeping us up to date on their movements. The enemy is disorganized and morale is scarce in the enemy forces. If we could start moving with whatever forces are ready, we will be able to catch up to them in a day or two."

The King didn't stop his speech at Perane's entry, the only clue that someone had entered the tent was a nod.

They spent the rest of the meeting discussing war plans for the upcoming battles. They would harass the enemy's supplies, sometimes even raid caravans, so as to have the enemy hungry and tired during the last battle. They would sing songs of Daggerfall all night and day, so the enemy grew exhausted, lowered in willpower. After all the plans had been discussed, the lords turned tail and walked back to their tents.

The next morning, the armies set out. They marched in formation. The enemy's banners could be seen over the horizon. They moved for two days. On the morning of the third day, the enemy set up camp and sent a messenger to King Lysandus. Perane didn't know the letter's contents of course, he wasn't the recipient, but shortly after orders spread around the army that they were to set up camp. So, they stayed that evening and the morning after in setting up a camp, they chose a defensible position, a steep hill, they cut down logs and made a wall that stretched all around the camp. Messengers were deployed, running towards Daggerfall to call for reinforcements.

Perane stayed in his tent the whole time, accompanied by Jagjort, he found amusement in trying to teach the mage the customs of the court, when he should eat, and when he shouldn't, what to say and what not to say, stuff he memorized like the back of his hand. A week after they set up camp, Jagjort officially became squire to Perane, but he still felt as if a part of his life was empty, and he felt as if nothing could replace that.

A week after that, Lord Bridwell called for mobilization. They were to meet the enemy on the fields of battle. The day before they rode out, the last war meeting was assembled.

Perane made his way towards Lord Bridwell's tent this time, it was much smaller than the King's, and it was embroidered with golden silk and blue linen, with intricate patterns adorning the cloth.

As Perane entered the tent, he found, to his surprise, that only about five lords were inside.

"Ah! Lord Staldirs, my savior!" Lord Bridwell rushed forward to greet him and they shook hands. Lord Bridwell led Perane to the group of talking nobles.

"All, this is Lord Staldirs, Hero Of Shalgora! Without this fine lad here, we would've lost the battle. What do you think of him, hmm? The Hero Of Shalgora!"

Lord Bridwell introduced him to the men, he learned that most of the men gathered here were rivals of his father. Lord Fraddock, he recognized, he had come storming into Swordrist once demanding reparation, for what though, he remembered not. Another, Lord Hartolyan II had served Wayrest up until a few years ago, when he defected with his small isle north of Sentinel, Perane's father, a staunch traditionalist had opposed the defector's entry into the court.

"The Hero of Shalgora, pfft! More like the dead of Gradkeep!" Hartolyan laughed, followed by those of the other men, and the forced one of Lord Bridwell.

"I wonder, Hartolyan, will you go running to the enemy begging for mercy, as you did with us?" Perane replied, this was a great damage to Hartolyan's honor. The men smirked, and Bridwell smiled.

"Shut your mouth! It is not respectful of you to talk to your superiors this way!" Hartolyan replied, full of rage and his hand resting on his sword's hilt.

"If so, then you should speak to my hound more respectfully, nobler blood than yours is spilled every time a pig is slaughtered." Perane spoke, he spoke with pride and honor, and a hint naivety.

"This is it! I will not allow this to continue!" Barked Hartolyan.

"Hold your horses." Lord Bridwell stepped in between them, just in time as Hartolyan was preparing to draw his sword.

"Let us speak of the war. Lord Hartolyan, you are to command the vanguard, Lord Fraddock, the Left flank shall fall under your command, and Lord Staldirs will command the right flank. Is that clear?"

"Yes, my lord." they chanted. Perane shot Hartolyan a look, and found him talking to Lord Fraddock, the other two lords chatted with Lord Bridwell. Perane excused himself and rushed outside to draw a breath of fresh air imediatelly. Lord Hartolyan had really gotten on his nerve. Once he reached his tent, he ordered Jagjort to setup guards all around the clock.

Finally, after the men rallied, and the supplies ready, they marched to war. In formation, Perane's army was placed at the head of the right flank, they were followed by the cavalry. The other lords assigned to the right flank marched after them. Soon, the first arrows were fired from both sides.

Perane gripped his reigns tightly, turning to the communications man.

"Order them to ready a charge."

The man nodded and blew his warhorn two times, in short succession. Jagjort ran up to Perane and handed him his lance, as he followed behind. Perane gripped the lance tightly, wrapping his arm around it. His shield was wrapped to his arms, his sword swung from his hip.

The knights organized themselves into a long line that ran from one side of the battlefield to the other. Looking around, Perane found them all ready. He turned to his communications man but couldn't find him. A heavy mist had settled over the battlefield. Perane found himself unable to see anything more than half a meter in front of him. But arrows still whizzed past, and he knew staying still meant certain death. He raised his visor so that he could be heard.

"Charge!" He shouted at the top of his lungs.

"For King and Country!" The Knights yelled. And with that, the host began to move. "Death!" They cried in one voice loud and terrible and gathering speed like a great tide their steeds crashed the enemy lines.

The enemy fell back and roared away North with great terror. Perane charged a warrior down, his lance imbedding itself in the throat and ripping off the man's head. Screams and war cries filled the misty air. Perane couldn't see anything around him, a soldier pulled Perane by the leg. He found himself separated from the rest of the knights. Infantry slowly started surrounding him, he would have nowhere to go.

Just as the last gap in the encirclement around him was about to be closed, Perane snapped the reins and escaped with his steed. He noticed he could see a bit better know. One Sentinel knight came rushing towards him, his saber swung and dented Perane's breastplate. He pulled the reins and raised his lance, as the Sentinel nobleman came in on him, he charged.

His lance landed into the redguard's shoulder, sending his arm flying dismembered. He screamed in agony as he dropped off his horse, which ran away at the loosening of reigns.

Perane grabbed the redguard's remaining arm and strapped him to his horse, dragging him behind him as he rode back towards friendly lines. One, long roar of a warhorn radiated off the mist, signalling retreat. Perane started worrying, what had happened to cause a retreat? It's because of the mist, he told himself, but he wasn't wholly assured, and the breton corpses that littered the ground were no help either.

The common soldiers made way for his horse as he rode towards the commander's tent. A servant came and picked up the redguard, taking him to a healer's tent.

He pushed the flap open and entered. He found the King lying on a cot, an arrow piercing his skull. His son -and Prince- Gothryd stood over him, but there wasn't much tears. Some other noblemen stood behind Gothryd. At the sight of Perane, Hartolyan broke from the ranks and came out smirking. At the sight of him Perane lost all control.

"Tell us Hartolyan, are you really as skilled an archer as they say you are?" Perane asked. Even if he was wrong, a plot to end Hartolyan had already formed in his mind.

"What... Why, yes, more skilled than you'll ever be." Hartolyan seemed taken by surprise by the question.

"And you did fire your bow several times during the battle did you not?"

"Ye… Outrageous! How dare you accuse me of such an act? To kill our own King?" Hartolyan shouted in rage and worry.

"Did you not abandon your last liege? As they say, Lord Hartolyan, habits die hard."

Perane rested his hand on his sword. By now, the whole hall was watching, the lords seemed divided on who to agree with.

"That's it! I challenge you to a duel!" Lord Hartolyn shouted, a small grin appeared over his cheeks, but he was still frightened.

"And I accept."

Perane's face became decorated by a bitter smile. He unsheathed his sword and gripped it tightly, lowering his visor. His opponent did the same. They both circled each other, waiting for the other to strike. The people fell silent and the air was stiff.

Hartolyan gave in first and lunged at Perane. Staldirs swept the blade aside and came in to strike the overextended nobleman's back, but Hartolyan had twisted his blade and crashed it into his knee, which started bleeding. First blood for him, Perane thought, as he fell back. Over-heartened by the success of his attack, Hartolyan swung his blade to the left, but it didn't land the plate armor.

Perane gripped Hartolyan's sword and pulled it out of his grip, it was easier than he expected, for Hartolyan had not seen such a move coming.

Before Hartolyan could grab his dagger, Perane tackled him to the ground, the impact opened his opponent's visor. Perane unsheathed his blade and stabbed into Lord Hartolyan's eye. Hartolyan screamed with agony, and in his impulse, removed his helmet in an attempt to cull the pain, but all he received were two other, savage stabs, which ended him.

Most of the lords cheered for Perane's victory. Their celebrations, however, were interrupted by Prince Gothryd.

"Now, we shan't wait too long, for the enemy is preparing a counter-attack. I shall be made King and we shall accompany our men in a charge."

Perane nodded. A few moments later, a priest came and stood beside Gothryd, a crown in his hands.

"By the blessings of the Nine Divines and Akatosh, Dragon God and Chief of the Nine Divines, Lord Gothryd III Of House Daggerstor of Daggerfall is hereby named Divine Ruler of The Kingdom Of Daggerfall, under his grace we will prosper and thrive."

The tent erupted in cheers at the sight of their new King, but Gothryd bode them farewell as he mounted his horse, and that they did. With a new force that bound their cause to victory the knights charged.

The soldiers ran after their masters. And like a great wave intent upon it's prey, they overran the enemy lines. The redguards fell to the floor, they had been so cheerful and boastful of their victory that they had not seen the enemy until it was too late.

Perane charged with them. He held his lance low. It crashed into one enemy's chest and another into his groins, both were... fatal, to say the least. Perane experienced close to no resistance. They charged all the way to the enemy's encampment, where King Camaron had prepared a last defensive line. The knights quickly, and easily broke through. The redguards knew they had already lost, they saw no point in dying alongside their King.

But instead of a shout of victory, as Perane had expected, a great silence filled the battlefield. Very few men clashed, they had gathered to watch the duel between Camaron and Gothryd.

Gothryd swung to the right, aiming at his shoulder. Camaron raised his shield to block the blade's path. He was panting and exhausted. Gothryd feinted a swing to his left and swung once more to the right. Camaron had expected that. He raised his blade to parry it but he was too exhausted, and before he could block, the blade sank deep into his chest.

The King had fallen.

The fields erupted in cheers at Gothryd's victory. The battle was over and the vile war that had claimed many a man's life was now over.

"So what will you do now?"

Jagjort asked Perane. They were riding up a country road, back home. They rode in one long line. The two were followed by guards and other nobles that had a home in Swordrist. The road zigzagged around the mountains of Daggerfall.

"Why, the center of Tamriel itself, the Imperial City!" Perane replied with a smile, as if the answer was obvious.


End file.
